Other Paths Taken: Divergence
by Cadsuane
Summary: An AU fic originally done for the kmeme.  Anora is the Warden and F!Cousland married King Cailan.  Rated "T" for now, will move to "M" when it gets smutty.  Rewritten slightly from its original form on the kmeme.  Story is Part 1 of a 5 part series.
1. Chapter 1

All right. So I'll admit to being corrupted by the Dragon Age kink meme and posting some fics there. This is a longer AU fic I did, and I really like it, so I decided to share here. I won't pretend to be good at smut, so when it gets smutty, try not to laugh too loudly. My ego bruises easily. Rated "T" for now, will move to "M" later. As always, reviews are very much appreciated.

I do not own any rights to Dragon Age, its story or characters.

* * *

**Setting:** This is an AU work, the first of what will be a five part series. In this setting, Anora ends up as the Warden and F!Cousland married Cailan. Most events played out similarly to the game, with the exception that the Couslands were not slaughtered. How things ended up the way they are, will be explained a bit, but I'm not going to do a huge amount of backfill on the story. The story picks up as Anora and Alistair are preparing for the Landsmeet, and continues with the events that follow.

* * *

**Chapter One**

"It doesn't make any sense." Alistair frowned. "You expect us to believe that Howe, Loghain's right-hand man, kidnapped the queen—who just so happens to be Loghain's puppet—and she wants us to come rescue her? I don't know about anyone else, but this screams 'trap' to me."

He glanced skeptically at the elven servant standing next to Eamon, and then at his fellow Warden. Anora, too, was frowning at the elf.

"While nothing about my father surprises me anymore, what possible benefit could this have for him? He's been able to control Breonna so far. Why go through all this trouble for seemingly no gain?"

Erlina, the elf, nodded. "She said you would be dubious about the situation, but she beseeches your aid. Matters for my lady are not as simple as you might think. Please, Wardens, you must help her!"

Alistair, Anora and Eamon all exchanged looks. "Erlina," Eamon said, "please let us talk for awhile. We need to discuss in private."

She nodded and dipped a quick curtsy before hastening out the door. Alistair looked at Eamon. "Do you believe her?" he asked bluntly.

Eamon gave a half shrug. "Her story is plausible. Until we arrived in Denerim, I had assumed Breonna was colluding with Loghain, following his orders without question. Now that I've had a chance to talk to some of the other nobles, I'm not so sure. It concerns me that she hasn't been seen much lately, even before this 'kidnapping' and that Teyrn Cousland remains in Highever." He clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head in thought.

"I think we need to hear from the queen herself. And if she is indeed in danger, leaving her at Howe's mercy hardly helps our cause. Perhaps we can gain her support."

"Do you truly think Queen Breonna will support Alistair's claim to the throne?" Anora scoffed. "Be serious, Eamon. The woman likes power and will do what she can to hold onto her throne. She's probably hoping to use us to somehow strengthen her claim. A spike in my father's wheel, pawns to be played until we're no longer useful and then sacrificed or tossed aside."

Alistair glanced over at her. She seemed unusually antagonistic. He wondered what she disliked about the queen so much, and if it had to do with the woman herself or her position.

When he had learned she had once been betrothed to Cailan, he had been surprised, to say the least. It was even more surprising that she had been the one to call it off. With her love of leadership, he wondered, now more than ever, why she had broken off the engagement. She hadn't said much about it, only that she refused to be a hidden power—that if she were to lead, it would be under her own name and not so that the credit would be taken by a golden-haired fool.

He thought there might be more to it than that, especially given her reaction now. It was rare to see her bothered this much by a situation. Usually, she was all unflappable calm and the epitome of confidence. "Jealous?" he asked, mildly, testing her reaction.

Anora's icy blue eyes snapped over to meet Alistair's gaze. Things had been testy between the two of them for the last couple of months. They still shared a bed, but the earlier closeness they had found was gone. Anora was a strong-willed woman, and as Alistair had grown more confident and assertive, she had been growing steadily distant from him.

He missed the earlier closeness they had shared. After Ostagar, Anora had been a shelter in the storm. Her confidence, her calmness, her willingness to take over had saved him just as surely as Flemeth. Without her, he wasn't sure what he would have done, if he would have been strong enough to continue on his own.

With a sigh, he rubbed the back of his neck. He should have remembered she didn't appreciate jokes like that anymore. The chasm that was growing between them bothered him. The past months had changed her, made her harder and he knew they were being drawn inexorably apart. But part of him would always love her and mourn what they were losing.

"If I had wanted to be queen, Alistair," she said coolly, "I would have been, and you well know that. I didn't want to be tied down like that then, _nor do I now_. That I'm not queen right now was my choice and I don't regret it. But that has nothing to do with the fact that Breonna hardly seems like a trustworthy ally or source of information."

Arrogant and commanding as she could be, Anora looked for and seized any advantage to be found. So he appealed to that side of her nature.

"I say we do it." He ignored her glare. "What could it hurt? We can at least see what she wants. If she supports us, great. If not, she'll be where we can keep an eye on her. If nothing else, we take away something Loghain can use against us. We're going to need all the help we can get at the Landsmeet and the queen would be a powerful symbol."

She pursed her lips in thought, a slight crease forming between her brows as she mentally weighed all the pros and cons..

"And," he added, almost as an afterthought, "if she really is in danger, it wouldn't be right to leave her there."

"Ah, yes, the honorable knight charging in to save the day. How could I have forgotten that?"

"Anora…." If there was one thing he hated that about her, it was that—her willingness to mock or belittle the part of him that wanted to save people. That has also grown more pronounced lately. They were Wardens, for the Maker's sake. It's what they were supposed to do, yet she seemed all too willing to ignore that lately.

"Wardens, please!" Eamon cut off the impending argument. "There's risk involved in this, and the longer you wait, the more it grows. If you're going to do this, I suggest you do it soon. For what it's worth, I think Alistair's idea has merit. We gain nothing by not helping, and while it is a risk, aiding Queen Breonna could gain us an invaluable advantage."

"Fine," Anora snapped. "Let's go rescue Her Most Royal Majesty and see if she's of any use to us."

Alistair shook his head as he followed Anora out of the door to where Erlina waited. He would continue to follow her lead for now, despite how confining he found it. He wanted to be more, do more, and he chafed against the restrictions she continued to set, for all that she seemed to encourage him to want the throne

She could only push him so far before he would push back, and hard.

* * *

In the end, getting into the Arl of Denerim's estate had been easier than they all anticipated. Erlina's disguises had allowed them to slip in and mingle unnoticed. Discovering Breonna trapped behind a magical force field had required them to find and kill the mage responsible. That in turn had led to the slaying of Arl Howe and the discovery of Riordan.

Alistair and Anora had both been pleased by that. The loss of Howe would weaken Loghain, and another Warden, especially an older, more experienced one, was like a gift from the Maker.

Once they had freed Breonna, they moved to exit the estate quickly. They had almost made it out, when they entered the last room and were confronted by Ser Cauthrien and guards.

A lot of guards.

Beside him, Breonna stiffened, and Alistair felt a stab of anger that this _had_ been a set up. Looking past the queen to Anora, he saw she looked equally as angry. They exchanged a quick glance. They had been together long enough that they each knew what the other was thinking.

If they fought here, and Breonna was hurt or killed, they would lose most, if not all, credibility in the Landsmeet.

Gritting his teeth, he forced his hand away from the hilt of his sword. Anora stepped forward to surrender. "Get her back to Eamon's," she hissed at Zevran and Leliana. They nodded and as Cauthrien's men moved to arrest them, the rogues hustled the queen outside. Cauthrien watched them go with narrowed eyes, but did not stop them.

* * *

Unwilling to wait for a possible rescue, they had taken the first opportunity to escape. Alistair regretted the deaths of the guards who were just doing their duty, but he didn't think things would have gone very well if he and Anora had simply waited in their cell for Loghain to decide what to do with them.

Their return to Arl Eamon's estate was met with glad surprise. The rest of their companions had been getting ready to head out to rescue them, and were relieved that it wasn't necessary.

Alistair knew Eamon would want to talk about what had happened at the estate and what they should do now, and wondered if he could put the arl off long enough to grab some food, a bath and maybe a nap. His musings were interrupted by the sound of Anora's angry voice.

"I suppose your little plan didn't work out quite the way you wanted."

He looked over. Face set in anger, Anora stood before Breonna, arms crossed over her chest.

Breonna lifted her chin slightly, not giving ground or backing down. "There was no 'plan' beyond escaping from the estate. I didn't know Ser Cauthrien was going to show up. If I had, I would not have asked you to endanger yourselves that way."

"You didn't think my father would send someone after you? Especially if Howe was acting on his own?"

"I suspected he might, which is why I sent Erlina to you as swiftly as possible. If credit for my rescue had to go to anyone, I preferred that it go to you.

"And…thank you for coming to my aid." The words were delivered stiffly, as if the queen were unused to delivering such thanks. She looked up, over Anora's shoulder. "Thank you, Warden."

Brows lifting in surprise, he just nodded.

Breonna turned to Eamon. "We have much to discuss, Eamon. We should attend to that as soon as possible."

"Why don't we allow the Wardens some time to recover from their ordeal? We can discuss matters over dinner. I trust that will be suitable?"

"Yes, that will be fine. At dinner, then." She inclined her head to him, and then to each Warden in turn.

When she had gone, Eamon turned to the Wardens. "We'll need to see what she wants. If she's willing to help us, taking Loghain down may be easier than I had hoped.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair, with little conversation until after the plates had been cleared. "All right," Anora said, "what do we do now? I assume since we rescued you, Breonna, that we'll have your support at the Landsmeet."

Breonna hesitated briefly. "Yes, of course. But I'd rather hoped to discuss that I might have your support at the Landsmeet in turn."

Eamon frowned. "Do you mean you want us to support your claim to the throne?"

"Yes. It's my understanding that you intend to put Alistair forward as heir and challenger to the throne." Eamon nodded. "Do you truly think that is wise?"

She looked over at Alistair. "I mean this as no disrespect. From what I know of you, you are a good and honorable man. But you have no experience with ruling. You know this to be true. I have no reservations about you as a person, but as a king? I cannot say I think this to be a good idea."

"You underestimate him, your Majesty. With a few months experience, and the right people guiding him, he'll do just fine."

"Be that as it may, Eamon, what Ferelden needs right now is not 'fine.' I have ruled this country very well for the last few years. I don't think it's in Ferelden's best interests to remove me."

"You just want to hold onto your throne," Anora scoffed.

"And is that so wrong? Haven't I earned that? I have always done my best for Ferelden, and acted in her best interests. I believe that allowing me to remain queen will continue to do that."

"And allowing my father to do what he's done has been in Ferelden's best interest? You haven't been able to stop him, nor does it appear that you've even tried. Why should we let you keep your crown after that?"

"What would you have me do?" Breonna asked, a note of frustration creeping into her voice. "A civil war had already started, and I've been doing what I can to keep it from spreading and growing worse. If I had spoken out against Loghain, my father would have gathered all his allies, and gone to war against Loghain. The fighting would have engulfed the entire country, and we cannot afford that right now.

"As it stands right now, the only reason my father has not yet done so is because I have begged him not to. That's another reason why I asked for your help. Had word of what Howe did had gotten out, my father would have marched and I would have been unable to stop him."

She shook her head. "Perhaps right now is not the best time to discuss this. I am out of sorts, and you have all had a very long and difficult day. We still have time before the Landsmeet, and there are other things that need looking into. Let's meet again tomorrow." Breonna rose, and the others hastily got to their feet.

"Again, thank you for your rescue today. Sleep well, Wardens, Arl Eamon."

She swept from the room quietly, all grace and dignity. Anora laughed softly. "The same as she ever was. She won't help us, you know. If you're determined to put Alistair on the throne, she'll turn on you at the Landsmeet. For all her words about wanting to oppose my father, she will back him if it means she remains queen.

"She did have one good idea, though. I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning, Eamon."

"A moment, Alistair," Eamon said before he could follow Anora out. He nodded and reached out to touch Anora's shoulder as she walked by. She shrugged his hand off, however, and he suppressed a frown. He had hoped her anger at his earlier comments had worn off, but that didn't appear to be the case.

After Anora had left, Eamon turned to him. "Alistair, I'd like you to talk to Breonna."

Alistair laughed. "I don't think that's a very good idea. I'm hardly a neutral party."

"I know. I had hoped Anora would be, as she usually seems quite logical, but it seems not. Please, talk to Breonna. She's a good woman, and if there's a way to reach a compromise, it might be our best option."

"You aren't afraid I'll just tell her to take the throne?"

Eamon gave him a long look. "We've had this discussion, Alistair. You'll be a fine king. And you've never abandoned your duty before, so I don't expect you to start doing it now. Ferelden deserves a Theirin. You are the last of the Theirins. You might not think it means much, but the line of Calenhad carries a lot of weight with people."

Alistair's lips twisted. He disliked when Eamon made that point. There should be more qualifications for being king than what happened to flow through your veins. But then there was the part about duty. He didn't fully trust Queen Breonna—none of them did. She had allowed Loghain to do as he wished, unchallenged. As capable an administrator as she was, Ferelden deserved someone who would fight for her.

And if he were being honest with himself, the idea of being king was significantly more appealing now than it had been when Eamon first suggested it several months ago.

He sighed. "All right. I'll talk with her. I can't promise anything, though. Maker knows if she lies to me I'm probably not going to be able to tell."

"You'll be fine. Thank you, Alistair." Eamon clapped him on the shoulder and left. Alistair scrubbed a hand through his hair. As he walked through the hallways to the guest room where Breonna was staying, he thought about the situation. What he could possibly offer Breonna to make her step aside and what compromise would be agreeable to everyone?

Breonna and Eamon were both right, in a way, though neither solution was perfect. He laughed ruefully. What they really needed was someone who combined both he and Breonna in one person. Too bad they didn't have that.

He stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the hallway.

They didn't have that combination in _one_ person, but they did have _two_ people who could be…joined. No. No, no, no. That idea was insane. He should just forget he ever thought of it. There was no way it would ever work.

_Why not?_ a voice in his mind asked, and as much as he tried, he couldn't shake the idea. It clung like a burr, burrowing into his thoughts and refusing to leave. With a groan, he began to actually think through the idea. That was something else he had gotten better at over the last few months.

He wanted to stop the fighting. It was stupid, even without the Blight to worry about. Either candidate would ensure that Ferelden was united behind one ruler.

But he didn't know the first thing about being king, despite what Eamon said. He knew himself well enough to know he would try his hardest, and that with effort, he would probably even be a good king. But Breonna, as a teyrn's daughter, had been born to this sort of thing. And she had five years on the throne. However good he became, she would be better and would start that way.

The other consideration was that he really, really didn't want Loghain to win. Whatever Breonna promised, unless he was king, there was no way to ensure justice was done. And despite what Anora had said in the past, he had his doubts that when the time came she would be able to stand by as judgment was passed on her father.

He couldn't believe he was even contemplating this. He didn't even know the woman, and was considering marrying her. Well, she would have to agree first, but he suspected if it let her keep the throne she might agree to just about anything.

Who knew? It might even be enjoyable. She was a beautiful woman, and while reserved, didn't seem to be an unpleasant person. Maybe with a little time, once he got to know her better, she would loosen up.

That still left Anora. She'd made it quite clear she didn't want to be queen, did not want to spend her life trapped in some gilded cage. He ground his teeth at the irony of it. The woman raised from birth to live in that opulent prison firmly rejected it, but he, bastard prince, taught all his life this was never an option, was supposed to just fall into line and accept this new course his life had taken. Anora encouraged it, and he still wasn't sure why. If he became king, and she refused to be queen, then what did it mean for them? That question had been on his mind for a long time.

Still lost in thought, he found himself in front of Breonna's door. He knocked, and rocked back on his heels slightly as he waited for an answer. A few moments passed, and the door swung open to reveal the queen of Ferelden, who was clearly preparing for bed.

Breonna's green eyes widened slightly when she saw him. Her long brown hair, undone from the loose knot she has worn it in, spilled down her back. This close, Alistair was profoundly aware of the differences between her and Anora.

Both had fine, delicate features, but Breonna's face was a bit more square, jaw and chin set in more stubborn lines compared to Anora's oval face. Physically, they were of a similar height, though the queen was perhaps a touch shorter. And while Anora was all lean grace and speed, Breonna was softer, slightly rounder of breast and hip.

"Alistair?" He looked back up at her face, realizing belatedly it was the second time she had called his name. "Can I help you?"

Covering the moment of awkwardness with a smile, he said, "I was hoping we could talk, your Majesty."

* * *

**AN:** Forgot line breaks. -.- Edited to fix.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** I feel it's important to mention something about this fic. The original kmeme prompt asked for an assertive Alistair, sort of a BAMF, so the Alistair in this fic reflects that to a certain degree. He's not a BAMF, but he is more confidant and has more of an independent, take-charge attitude. I think a lot of us would have encouraged this Alistair throughout the game if it were possible, and that's the type of Alistair you will see here. He's growing into his role as a leader and king. So he is different from in-game Alistair, but I think he still holds true to what makes him Alistair.

**Special Thanks:** I was dreadfully remiss in the first chapter for forgetting to thank my friends for beta'ing this story for me - Ravenia, Xandurpein, Su and cmess. Thank you for helping me make the story better, for finding all the mistakes I make, and for all the hand-holding I needed.

As always, enjoy! Reviews and comments are always appreciated!

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Breonna looked up at Alistair as he stood just outside her doorway and then past him into the empty hall. What could he possibly want to talk about? Keeping her expression carefully neutral, she stepped back, holding the door open, and gestured for him to enter. "Of course. Please, have a seat."

Alistair sank into one of the chairs before the hearth with a sigh. Breonna perched on the other chair, set at an angle from his. She tried not to focus on how much he looked like Cailan. "What did you wish to discuss?"

"A few things actually." He looked over at her and frowned slightly. "You say we should trust you, that you want to take Loghain down. Why should we believe you?"

How to answer that question? Her fingers twisted together in her lap and she looked down at them for a long moment before speaking, working through thoughts and emotions before she gave her answer.

"Whatever happened at Ostagar cost me the lives of my husband and brother. After that, I was trying to save the rest of my family. Whether or not I believed Loghain didn't matter. I had to act like I did if I wanted to keep others safe."

"Your brother?"

She nodded. "Fergus led Highever's men ahead of my father and Arl Howe's forces. My father didn't reach Ostagar before the battle. When he did arrive…." Her voice caught and she continued quickly. "All he could do was help survivors escape. Then he returned to Highever. Fergus…was never found."

The slight widening of Alistair's eyes told her he hadn't known that. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not the only one who lost a lot that day." Her lips curved in a sad smile. "You have my sympathies for what happened to your Order. For what it's worth, I don't believe Loghain's assertions that the Grey Wardens were responsible for what happened at Ostagar. The plan was his. Your men were there to offer support."

Alistair sat back in his chair, mulling over what she said. She watched the emotions play over his face and had to look away. He was so open, so much like Cailan that it _hurt_. When Cailan told her he had a half-brother, it had never occurred to her how much they would look like each other. When the Wardens rescued her at Arl Howe's estate, she had nearly fainted from shock.

"So you want to stop Loghain?"

She looked back over and concentrated on keeping her voice steady. "Yes."

"And keep your throne."

It was her turn to shift, slightly. What did he want? She knew Eamon wanted Alistair to be king. It would serve the dual purpose of keeping a Theirin on the throne and increase his own influence. She chose her words carefully. "I would prefer that, yes. But I would rather a united Ferelden with me off the throne than a divided one with me on it."

She didn't think Eamon or Anora would believe that, however much she meant it. But Alistair might be different. She wondered if he also shared Cailan's trait of always believing the best of people.

Alistair nodded and seemed to come to a decision. He sat forward, propping his elbows on his knees, laced hands resting against his chin. "Then I have an offer for you."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Marry me."

Breonna's eyes flew open and her mouth slackened in shock. Surprise literally rocked her back in her seat. For a moment she couldn't breathe, could only sit, stunned. Long moments passed and still she said nothing, simply looking at him in disbelief.

Alistair's brows drew together in a frown. "Is it really so surprising that someone would suggest this? Surely you can see the benefits. We each have our plans, and this would allow us both—"

"No!" The word burst forth, far louder and more strident than she intended.

Cut off mid-sentence, he stared at her. "You haven't even given—"

"No… Just no!" She got to her feet, shaking slightly. She couldn't deal with this, not right now. The very thought of marrying him, Cailan's brother, when they looked so much alike…. Walking quickly towards the door, she opened it and gestured agitatedly. "Please, just leave. I don't want to discuss this."

Angry now, he got to his feet and moved towards her. "Well, I _do_ want to discuss it, and we _will_ discuss it. You came asking for _our_ help, and now you won't even listen to a practical solution?"

"Get out!" she cried, distraught. For a moment, she didn't think he would. Then his mouth set in angry line and he brushed past her, stalking into the hall. Breonna closed the door behind him quickly and then leaned back against it, sliding down until she sat on the floor. She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. Leaning her head against her knees, she shook, grieving again for her lost husband.

* * *

Biting back a curse, Alistair stood in front of Breonna's door, fuming. She didn't want to be reasonable, to make some small sacrifice to keep her throne? Fine.

He stalked back through the halls to the room he shared with Anora. Not bothering to hide his irritation, he slammed the door shut. Tearing off his clothes and boots, and tossing them onto a chair, he slid into the bed beside Anora and reached for her. His hands closed on her shoulders and he started to draw her back against him.

She allowed herself to be moved back, but stiffened slightly. Turning over so that she could look at him, she asked, "Finished talking with the queen? What did Eamon put you up to doing?"

"He didn't put me up to anything."

"Oh?" Her voice was deceptively mild, but she still managed to inject that one little word with a wealth of meaning.

He sighed. "Do you really want to discuss this _right now_, Anora?"

"I think I do. Unless you think it'll be easier to talk about if you wait."

Alistair rolled over onto his back and Anora propped herself up on an elbow, looking at him. He wasn't sure how to say it or how she was going to react.

"I asked her to marry me."

"Breonna?"

"No, Morrigan." Anora jabbed his arm. "Yes, of course, Breonna."

"I see. And what did she say?"

"No. Rather forcefully."

Beside him, Anora made a thoughtful sound. He wondered what she was thinking, and wished, not for the first time, that she didn't keep everything locked up so tight in her mind that he couldn't read her.

"Listen, Anora, we don't have very many choices here. I can't say I'm thrilled, but a compromise in this situation seems like the best option."

"I see," she said calmly. "Well then, that about says it all."

"Damn it, Anora, listen to me for a minute."

"No, I understand. Really, I do, Alistair. In fact, I'm impressed that you came up with that idea on your own. It shows a lot of insight and growth. And don't take her initial rejection too badly. Wait a few days and then talk to her again. She may be more accommodating."

He was more than a little surprised by the equanimity with which she greeted his revelation. There was also more than a little shock that she was actually giving him advice on how to accomplish his goal. "Why are you doing this? I thought you didn't like her."

"I may have been…overly harsh in my initial assessment. I may not like what she allowed to occur this last year, but I can't deny that she's ruled very well in the years before that. The two of you together would probably be very good for Ferelden."

Leaning back into his pillow, Alistair sighed again. "And what about us?"

"What about us?"

He turned his head so he could look at her. "You and me and…." He gestured lamely to the bed they were laying in. "If I marry her, I can't…I can't keep…."

Anora reached over and stroked his cheek. "I like you, Alistair. I care for you, and always will, but did you really think we were meant to last?"

He had no answer for that. He supposed that deep down he knew it would never really work between the two of them. It was hard to accept, but not as hard as it would have been once, long ago, in the beginning. They had both changed.

Pushing the covers back, Alistair sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Alistair?"

"It's better to do this now," he said. "Isn't it? Regardless of what Breonna decides." He looked back over his shoulder at her. She nodded. He stood quickly and began gathering his clothes.

"Alistair?" Her soft voice stopped him as he opened the door. "Are we still friends?"

"Do you want to be?"

"Very much."

"Then I do, too. Good night, Anora."

As Alistair settled between the cold sheets of a spare guest room, he wondered how life could change so radically in less than a day.

* * *

Their companions noticed the change between Alistair and Anora, in addition to the fact that they were no longer sleeping in the same bed. There were a few curious looks, but no one asked. Everyone busied themselves with last minute preparations before the Landsmeet began.

On Breonna's advice, they investigated the situation in the Alienage. What they had found sickened them all. Even Eamon was aghast at the depths to which Loghain had sunk. Anora was stonily silent. Alistair knew she prized her freedom above all else, and to have her _father_ sell people into slavery stoked an anger in her that he had never seen before.

As for the queen, she looked tired and guilty. Alistair caught her murmuring "I should have done more."

Since the disagreement in her room, Breonna had avoided Alistair as much as possible. She spoke to him only when necessary and didn't look at him if it were possible. He wondered idly what exactly about marrying him she found so abhorrent.

It was with some surprise then that Erlina knocked on his door that evening, asking if he would please consent to speaking with the queen. He hesitated a moment before agreeing. She must want something, and he might as well see what it was.

Erlina escorted him to Breonna's door. After knocking, she said, "Alistair is here, my lady." The door opened and Breonna regarded him solemnly before nodding towards Erlina.

"Thank you, Erlina. That will be all for tonight." The elf curtsied and hurried down the hall.

The queen stood back, allowing Alistair entrance, closing the door when he entered. Unlike the first night, he remained standing, arms folded across his chest as he waited. Breonna paced nervously for a moment, and then stopped, facing him with her hands clasped in front of her.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Breonna looked at Alistair. She forced herself to look him in the face, forced herself to see past the resemblance and see _Alistair_ and not _Cailan_.

"I…wanted to apologize for the other night. My behavior was uncalled for and you did nothing to deserve a reaction like that. I'm sorry."

His brows lifted slightly in surprise and he pursed his lips. "Apology accepted. Now if you've nothing else to discuss…?"

"No! Wait, please." She licked her lips and inwardly cursed her nervousness. There was no reason for her to be this unsettled. "I had hoped to actually discuss your…suggestion. That is, if the offer is still on the table?"

"I don't see why not."

"Good. Once I had a chance to calm down and think about it, I saw all the advantages you likely saw. You were right when you said I wanted to keep the throne. I do. And while I don't have Theirin blood, if things weren't so unsettled, as a Cousland, I most likely wouldn't have had any trouble remaining queen.

"But that's not what happened. And as Maric's son, you will have support. The best chance to avoid a conflict is for us to present a united front. Between the two of us, it will be far easier to make sure Loghain does not win."

"That had been my thinking. So you agreed that he must pay for his crimes?" She nodded. "Good. Despite how angry she is right now, I have the feeling that Anora won't be quite so blasé about the situation when the time comes. If we're both on the throne, however…." He didn't finish his sentence, but she understood his meaning. He intended for justice to be carried out, regardless of Anora's feelings.

The mention of Anora reminded Breonna of the other thing she needed to discuss with Alistair, and Maker help her, it was a conversation she didn't want to have. She stalled a bit. "About that…. Loghain never mentioned Anora being a Warden. How did that happen?"

"Ah. That. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell. You know how independent she is, right? Well, she was unhappy at being left behind in Gwaren when Loghain went to Ostagar and followed him. She was caught by a group of darkspawn in the Wilds a couple of days from the fortress. She killed them all, but was…injured. Duncan found her when he went out on one last search for recruits. Becoming a Warden was the only way to save her, and she was definitely worthy of being a recruit. Loghain was…less than pleased.

"And I wouldn't repeat that. She's a little touchy about it."

Breonna shook her head. "Of course not. I wouldn't dream of it. Still, I find the whole situation hard to believe. That Loghain could seek to destroy the Wardens when his own daughter…." She shook her head sadly. "It sometimes seems as if no family will be left untouched by the Blight."

Shifting slightly, and clearing her throat, she looked away from him, a faint blush on her cheeks. "There's something else that needs to be discussed.

"You and Anora are…_close_, correct?" Her slight emphasis on the word did not go unnoticed and Alistair cocked his head slightly. The next words were hard and stuck in her throat, but she forced them out anyway. "I want you to know that after we're married, I don't expect anything to change. I understand completely. I would just ask that the two of you remain discreet."

"Are you saying you're fine with me continuing to sleep with Anora _after_ we're married?" he asked. There was something in his voice she couldn't quite place. Anger, maybe? Though she couldn't imagine why. Perhaps he took offense at her implication that she had some say over his personal life.

The barest hint of a pause. "Yes."

"Why in the Maker's name would you agree to that?"

Finally meeting his gaze again, she smiled sadly. "What we have is business, of a sort. I don't expect you to give up the person you love because duty or politics requires you to marry someone else. And besides, it's not as if it's unheard of for the king to have women on the side." Try as she might, she could not disguise the hurt in her voice.

"Cailan had other lovers."

It was not a question. Breonna closed her eyes, hating the fact that memories she didn't want right now were being summoned. She remembered being eighteen and marrying a glittering, golden king, a figure larger than life who took control of everything around him. She remembered falling helplessly, and hopelessly, in love with him. She remembered how it felt to be gathered into his arms, and his whispers of "I love you" in her ear.

She remembered waiting up in their darkened bedchamber. She remembered hearing him enter in the early morning hours, slipping into their bed and snuggling up to her. She remembered the scent of soap, somehow more telling, and damning, than any perfume.

Her blush deepened and she felt the heat crawling up her face. She nodded. "He was a man of…large appetites. He cared for me, and was always kind, but…."

In front of her, Alistair shifted his weight from one foot to another and he didn't seem to know what to do with his hands.

"So, Anora and I can continue our relationship, as long as we keep it all hushed up?" he finally asked.

"Yes."

"No."

Panic flooded through her and her eyes snapped up to meet his. She recalled with sickening clarity the whispered rumors and hush conversations that always followed Cailan's indiscretions. "Alistair, please! I know you don't want to give her up, but we _must_ maintain an image!"

He shook his head. "No, I said that badly. I do that sometimes, so you should probably get used to it. Let me try to explain. What I meant was that there will be no Anora and I after we're married. And no anyone else and I, either."

"You…. Why would you do that?"

Laughing softly, he said, "Ignoring the fact that Anora and I are already over, it just wouldn't be right." He shrugged. "Call it old-fashioned or my Chantry upbringing, but it doesn't seem very honorable to me."

That caught Breonna off guard. Alistair seemed like an earnest man and didn't doubt the sincerity behind his words. But she knew what it was like. She knew, eventually, he would seek out companionship and love from others to ease the loneliness and isolation that came with the throne. But still, the gesture was nice, if ultimately empty. "I…see. Thank you, Alistair. I hadn't expected that.

"Well, I guess that's settled then. Thank you for understanding. Good night."

He looked like he was going to ask something else. But after a minute, he shook his head and turned towards the door. "Good night, your Majesty."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The Landsmeet went smoothly, all things considered. Alistair, Anora and Breonna presented a united front, and Loghain's regency, which had never been firmly established, was quickly dismantled.

As a gesture to Anora, Alistair didn't execute Loghain there, even though his hands itched to. Instead, with Breonna's backing, Loghain was taken to the tower to await execution after the Blight was defeated. Anora's eyes glittered at the pronouncement as her father was led out, but she hadn't protested. Alistair was impressed with her control. There was some regret because he knew it would hurt her, but he would not allow the murder of Duncan, the Wardens and Cailan to go unpunished.

As they were all agreed in their next course of action, Breonna had announced her engagement to Alistair before the Landsmeet. The assembled nobility accepted it as the compromise it was and all seemed ready to finally turn their attention to the Blight.

Armies were gathered, plans made, and the final push against the horde was begun when Riordan had delivered the shocking news about exactly _why_ Grey Wardens were needed. That blow was followed shortly by a pale Anora asking Alistair to sleep with Morrigan in order to conceive a child who would somehow save them all.

He rubbed his eyes. He really preferred not to think about that.

Then had come the final battle in Denerim and killing the archdemon. Since he and Anora both survived, he supposed Morrigan had been telling the truth. And since she had disappeared immediately after the battle, it was unlikely he would ever learn anything further.

After that, the sudden lack of enemies to fight had been jarring. Alistair had helped when the clean up began and, Maker's blood, he had never seen—and never wanted to see again—that many corpses in his life. Breonna had stepped up to take charge of organizing as they began rebuilding the city.

It was also her idea to have them wedded and crowned as swiftly as possible so they could focus on the tasks at hand. That's how he found himself now, married and a king, not even two months after the Blight was defeated. The situation seemed more than a little surreal.

Alistair looked across the room at his wife—and it was still odd to think of her like that—who was seated at a dressing table while Erlina helped her take down the elaborate hairstyle she had worn for the ceremony and formal dinner after. Taking the opportunity their ministrations provided, he tugged off his boots and socks, tossing them in a corner. The formal doublet followed, draped across a chair, leaving him in only a light linen shirt tucked into a pair of tailored black breeches.

"Would you like me to help you with your gown, my lady?" Erlina asked.

"Not necessary." Both women looked at him. Alistair waved a hand at the door. He wanted to talk to his wife and he didn't need her handmaiden hovering over them. "Good night, Erlina."

The elven maid nodded and curtsied. As the door shut behind her, Alistair crossed the room towards Breonna and she rose from the bench. She'd looked stunning today, the shimmering silver of her gown a perfect compliment to the deep blue he had worn. She still wore her gown and was now smoothing it with nervous fingers. He had caught the gesture a few times today, increasing as the day wore on and evening drew near. It worried him, seeing this uncharacteristic uncertainty from a woman who he was rapidly coming to learn was usually confident and self-possessed.

"I want to ask you something."

"Yes?" she asked hesitantly.

"When I first asked you to marry me, you rejected the offer without even thinking about it. Why?"

"Well, there was the issue of Anora…."

"No. I know you well enough now to know that wasn't the reason. I can probably guess what it was, but I want to hear it from you. What was the problem?"

"The problem is truly my own, Alistair. There's nothing you can do about it."

"It has to do with Cailan, right?" She nodded. "You loved him."

Helplessly, she shrugged. "I did. He didn't return my feelings in exactly the same way, and he was sweet, in his own way. But he had a wandering spirit. It wasn't his fault that I became attached enough for it to hurt. That was never his intention, but one might as well have tried to stop the tide than keep his passions in check. And…."

"And?"

"Alistair, please don't ask me this. It really has no bearing on you. My problems are my own. I don't want to burden you with them."

He laughed gently. "At this point, given what we've already faced, I hardly think it will be too much more to add. Tell me."

She looked up, her eyes flickering over his face and taking him in. "You _look_ like him."

She gave a small shake of her head. "It's silly, I know. But you really do look like him. That's what shocked me so much that first night. It feels like I'm replacing him with a copy. Add that to the fact that you're his brother and it's very…."

"Creepy?"

Breonna smiled weakly. "I was going to say odd, but close. You can't change what you look like. It's just something I'm going to have to deal with."

Alistair thought carefully. She had clearly been hurt by Cailan's infidelity, and deeply so. Looking back on it, he realized how much it had probably cost her to be willing to look the other way with Anora.

Standing in front of him now, eyes averted, she was nervous, unsure, and if he were reading her correctly, a little scared. He didn't like it. He hadn't known her very long, but this side he was seeing now was _not her_. If she saw Cailan when she looked at him, then she likely saw the hurts his half-brother had inflicted on her, deliberate or not. He searched for a way to stop this now, before it poisoned her completely against him.

"I'm not Cailan, Breonna."

"I know."

"Look at me."

Reluctantly, she dragged her gaze over to meet his. He kept his tone gentle and reassuring, as if she were a skittish horse about to bolt. "I'm not about to force you, Breonna. Marriage entails certain things, but if it's _really_ that distasteful…."

"That…that's kind of you, but it's not that. I just…can't _help_ seeing him when I look at you. I'm sorry."

He nodded. Even as he understood her reluctance, he wanted to disprove it—to show her how unlike his brother he could be.

"Close your eyes."

Her eyes widened, and he grinned crookedly at her. "Trust me. As soon as you're uncomfortable, tell me to stop and I will. But my reminding you of Cailan isn't something you can talk or reason yourself out of. Now…close your eyes." And, surprisingly, she did, and he took a step forward to close the last of the distance between them.

Very gently, he reached out to brush a lock of hair back behind her ear, using the motion to follow through and slide his hand into her hair and cup the back of her head. She remained motionless, though her breathing was slightly too fast and he didn't think it was from a sudden burning passion. Leaning forward, he pressed a very light kiss to her forehead.

With a startled gasp, Breonna's eyes flew open. "What are you…?"

He tsked and waggled a finger at her. "Keep them closed." She looked at him for a long moment then closed her eyes again.

Alistair repeated his first action, and this time she remained still. He drifted down and touched his lips against her temple, an eyelid, her cheek. They were very close—the barest of inches separating them, but the only places where he actually touched her were the hand on her head and his lips on her skin.

Breonna was very unlike Anora in this regard. Where Anora would join in enthusiastically or take charge, Breonna remained still, hesitant and unsure. He had no idea if this was her normal behavior in the bedroom, or if it was because they were virtual strangers. Alistair wondered what exactly Cailan had been like with her, and fervently hoped that they actually _were_ different or this was going to go poorly.

Bringing his free hand to her hip, he closed the slight distance still between them. He slid his hand up, across her back, pressing her slightly against him and finally brushed her lips with his in an almost chaste kiss.

Her breath caught slightly, but she didn't move, didn't open her eyes. He kissed her again, his tongue tracing her lower lip, seeking entrance into her mouth. She resisted for a second, and then her lips parted.

Taking advantage of her acquiescence, his tongue delved into her mouth, tasting the wine they had with dinner. With tentative touches, she returned the kiss, her tongue sliding against his. He felt her arms come up, hands fluttering at his sides for a moment before they settled on his waist. She leaned into him, pressing herself more fully against him as their kiss deepened.

They broke apart, gasping for breath. Surprisingly, Alistair realized that this had become more than just trying to reassure her. He _wanted_ her, desire coming in a sudden rush. He looked at her, her eyes still closed, lips slightly swollen from the kiss.

"Breonna," he said, his voice husky, "we don't have to do this, not now. Do you want me to stop?"

Green eyes fluttered open to look at him. This close, he noticed for the first time the tiny flecks of gold in them. She swallowed, and licked her lips.

"No."

* * *

As he kissed her again, Alistair slid the hand on her back up along her ribs to cup her breast. Breonna drew a quick breath, but didn't pull away from his hand. He massaged gently, as if exploring the feel and weight, and she realized it must be different from what he was used to. Even through the heavy fabric of her gown, the touch was enough to make her nipple harden as he ran his thumb over it and flicked gently.

She whimpered slightly as he teased her and her hands moved up, over his chest, around his shoulders and into his hair, drawing him closer. He deepened the kiss—confident, but not aggressive. It helped her relax, eased the trepidation away, and she felt the first threads of desire pulling at her, a slow throbbing between her legs. Almost absently, she ran her hands through his hair, tugging slightly at the ends as the strands of dark blond hair stopped too soon.

Alistair released her mouth and stood very still beneath her hands. "Should I grow it out?" he whispered against her hair.

"No!" She pulled back to look at him. "No. It's…different. But I like it. It suits you."

He grinned at her. "You have _no_ idea how happy I am to hear that."

Her lips twitched in a shy smile, and then it faded as she looked at him.

"Don't close up. Talk to me, Breonna. What are you thinking?"

She slid a hand from his hair across his cheek to cup his jaw. "There _are_ differences, you know. You're…warmer? Your skin and hair and eyes…." Her hands glided down to rest on his shoulders, pressing slightly. "And a little taller, not by much, but enough to tell." He brought his own hands down to hold her hips gently as she continued to explore, feeling the muscles along his arms.

"You've done so much fighting," she murmured. "You can feel it. Cailan trained, but this is different." Moving her hands over him, Breonna explored the hard planes of his chest, feeling the smooth swell of muscle. Taking a deep breath, her hands ghosted over his abdomen and ribs, tracing the lines and ripples of muscle and sinew. He bit back a quick laugh and she looked up at him curiously. "Ticklish?"

"A bit."

"Interesting."

"Yes. But don't tell anyone. I'd hate for my one true weakness to get out." She smiled and then bit her lip. Cailan had never teased himself this way. He had never teased much at all, she realized. He had been a gregarious man, willing to joke and have a good time, but always so very aware of the respect owed to him and of his image.

Alistair seemed so very different, and she suddenly wanted to believe it wasn't an act, that he wasn't dissembling simply to put her at ease.

Breonna rested her hands on his hips, narrower than she was used to. She tugged experimentally on his shirt. "May I?"

"Only if I get to return the favor. But ladies first."

She blushed, but didn't hesitate, tugging his shirt free. When she lifted it as much as she could, he helped her by pulling it all the way off and tossing it out of the way. There was an odd look in his eye as she got her first look at his naked torso, like he was waiting for some sort of judgment.

Her eyes widened as she looked at him. "Maker's mercy," she whispered. She had known he was a Grey Warden, had spent a year fighting nearly every day against darkspawn and man alike, but she had never envisioned the physical toll it would take. The oldest scars were faded and white, but many were still pink or red. There were slashes, some smooth, some jagged. Puncture wounds—bite marks, she realized in horror—and he was actually missing a chunk of flesh from his upper left arm.

Her fingertips traced the lines of scars that crisscrossed his torso and arms, and she understood the look in his eyes. The damage to his body was stark and graphic. There were people who would be repulsed by what she saw now and she knew he wondered if she would be one of them.

Instead, all she felt was pity. "I thought you had healers with you."

"Not all the time. And sometimes healing was better used on the more…extensive injuries."

She gaped. If this wasn't extensive, she didn't want to know what was. She laid her hand along a particularly wide mark along his ribs, wondering if he could even feel the touch. How much pain had he suffered? How much agony had he gone through because she hadn't stood up to Loghain? Guilt curdled tight in her stomach. "I didn't realize. Had I known…."

"You would have done what?" He stroked the soft skin of her cheek. "I'm a soldier. This," he gestured to himself with his free hand, "is what happens when you wear a metal suit and poke things with pointy sticks. There's nothing you could have done about this. It's not your fault. Beside, they don't even hurt anymore."

Shaking her head, she said, "I still feel responsible. You would have had far less had I been able to stop Loghain. You shouldn't have had to go through everything you did." Her breath caught in her throat. "But you're right. There's nothing I can do about it, not now. Nothing except…." And she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss to a thin, white line that ran along his collarbone.


	4. Chapter 4

Okay, so I'll admit to being a little disappointed by the lack of reviews on Chapter Three, as I really liked it myself. Ah well. Here is the conclusion to Divergence, which I hope goes over better with all of you. Please, if you like it, review. It makes me squee.

Divergence is the first of five parts. The other four parts will be following at about the same pace, one chapter a week. All the parts will carry the 'Other Paths Taken' tag.

Also, we got smutty in this chapter, so rating was moved to 'M'. I don't pretend to be terribly great as smut, so please, be gentle. ^_^ Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Four**

He wasn't expecting her to be sweet, not like this. In what was surely a twist of irony, he had been apprehensive about her seeing him. Maker, there were days he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror and scared himself! Having his new wife run screaming from the room would have probably been a poor start to their marriage.

But she hadn't screamed and she hadn't run. Instead, she had accepted what he was far more quickly than he could have hoped and reacted with empathy.

She was nervous, a little awkward, possibly scared and she was putting aside her reservations for him. She was _trying_—and it broke his heart a little to realize the only man she had been with before tonight was one she had loved—and right at this moment she was being sweet to him.

Taking her shoulders gently, he turned her around. "My turn," he said softly.

The laces took him a moment to figure out. His hands felt clumsy as he tried to see how they untied. As he tugged at them, he laughed softly. "Sorry. I've never actually done this before."

She glanced back over her shoulder at him. "Never?"

"No. Oddly enough, fighting the darkspawn in a dress isn't the best idea ever."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

"It's all right. Just as well we never tried. Anora probably never would have helped me get out of something like this anyway." There was silence for a moment, and then she giggled.

Finally, the laces came all the way undone, and the dress fell away from her. The smooth expanse of her back, completely bare of even a breast band, greeted him. She clutched the gown to her before it could fall away to expose her. Holding it against her, she bowed her head, her form trembling suddenly. Giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze, he leaned down and kissed the nape of her neck softly. "It's okay. Take your time."

"This is ridiculous. I-I shouldn't be so nervous about this." He continued to rub her shoulders gently. Slowly, she relaxed and let the dress fall away again, sliding her arms free and pushing it down when it caught briefly over her hips. She stepped out of the circle of fabric on the floor, clad only in the lacy scrap of her smallclothes.

He gave her shoulders one last squeeze and then started to turn her back to face him. He kept his voice soft, reassuring. "It's okay. You're okay. Let me look at you."

His eyes widened and he felt his pulse beat heavily in his head and groin as he looked at her. Beneath her gown, she was all pale loveliness. Her breasts were full, tipped with rose-colored nipples that even now looked as if they ached to be touched. A small waist tapered down, and then flared into gently rounded hips.

But she wasn't quite as soft as he was expecting. Her limbs, while long and clean-lined, were also toned. He could see the faint shadows where muscles were slightly outlined. No where near Anora, who resembled some goddess of battle, but an altogether different combination that intrigued him.

But she didn't look up at him, her head still bowed, eyes trained on her toes, It was such a contrast from the imperious, confident queen he had come to know, and Alistair was beginning to suspect that Cailan had taken charge more in the bedroom than he ever had on the throne.

"My brother," he said quietly, "was an idiot."

Her shocked eyes flew up to meet his serious gaze and she flushed. Her mouth worked for a moment, but no words came. Eventually she dropped her eyes and shook her head. "I'm not a child, you know. I know what this is. You don't have to pretend that you want me."

Alistair wanted to throttle Cailan for making a woman like this think that. What exactly did one have to do to make a beautiful think she wasn't desirable? "Believe me, Bre, I am _not_ pretending." He caught one of her hands in his and drew it against the front of his trousers, where she could feel him, hot and hard, through the fabric. For a second time, her eyes darted to his in shock.

"And, I repeat, Cailan was an idiot."

Alistair didn't want any doubts about this. He wanted her, and he was a little shocked at just how _badly_ he did. It's not like there wouldn't be time later, and if she asked him to stop, he would. But, by Andraste, would it be hard. "Bre, are you _sure_?"

Her fingers twitched against him slightly, and he ground his teeth together as he fought to keep still. Looking up at him, she licked her lips and nodded. "Yes. I-I'm sure." Her words might have been slightly hesitant, but there was a want and need in her voice that was incredibly arousing, and he groaned as he pulled her to him.

She was warm and soft against him as he kissed her again, abandoning the earlier slowness he had used with her. He allowed his hands to roam boldly, teasing and caressing supple flesh. His own desire mounted, answered as she moaned against his mouth as he cupped her breasts, kneading and rolling the hardened peaks between his fingers.

Turning his attention from her mouth, he worked his way down her throat, trailing teasing kisses and nips. He guided her back carefully towards the bed and halted her before she would have moved onto it. Dropping to one knee, he hooked fingers through the sides of her smallclothes and eased them down her legs. She stepped out of them daintily and he tossed them aside.

Maker's mercy, but she was beautiful, he thought. He stayed crouched before her instead, running his fingers along the backs of her calves as he gazed up at her, delighting in her naked glory. Head tilted to the side, Breonna looked down at him, brow furrowed in a questioning look. "Just enjoying the view."

"You…." She shook her head, but smiled, clearly flattered. She cleared her throat nervously. "And you're…overdressed."

Grinning up at her, pleased with her forwardness, he rose to his feet and looked down at himself. "Why, so I am." He held his arms out at his sides. "Care to help me with that?"

Biting her lip, Breonna reached out. She fumbled with the laces for a moment, much like he had with her dress. The light touch of her fingers was maddeningly arousing. She worked the laces free carefully, but paused halfway through to rub her hand against him. He felt a jolt of pleasure at the touch and moaned, grabbing her shoulders. "Okay, let's not do that again until we have my pants off."

Shooting him a wicked little look, she finished working the laces free and tugged his trousers down over his hips. She worked them down his legs, and like she had, he stepped clear of them once they were off. Taking a deep breath, she reached for his smallclothes. He groaned as she brushed against his manhood when she slid the confining material down. Then she stood up quickly. Her cheeks had gone scarlet again, and he chuckled to think that she blushed so easily.

She stole a quick glance down and the tip of her tongue reached out to touch her upper lip. Alistair was _not_ about to ask how different he was from Cailan in this regard, but from her expression, he figured she was at least pleased.

Moving to guide her back onto the bed, she unexpectedly reached out to wrap a hand around his length. He sucked in a sharp gasp as she ran her fingers up and down, lightly exploring him, sending swift stabs of pleasure through his body, until all he wanted was to grab her, push her down on to the bed and take her right then.

"Your pants are off now."

"You little tease," he growled.

"Well, if you want me to stop…."

"No. No, I definitely didn't say that. But why don't we get on the bed first? If you're going to have me at your mercy, I'd rather do it somewhere soft."

They moved backwards another step, and Breonna sat down and scooted back when her legs touched the bed. Alistair followed, sliding along beside her, pushing the blankets out of the way at the same time. She lay back against the pillows, her brief spurt of courage seeming to desert her. He nuzzled against her neck while fingers and hands stroked her arms and sides gently. "Relax."

He worked his way down her throat to her breasts, kissing and licking the soft skin of one while his other hand attended to the other. She gasped when he took her nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue around the hard tip and suckling. Her hand touched the back of his head and when he used his teeth to scrape gently, she clutched at him, arching into him with a small, surprised sound.

Hiding a grin, he moved over, giving her other breast the same thorough attention. He watched her, noting the way her eyes slid half-shut, the way her lips parted as he pulled gently.

One of his hands was on her hip and he slid it over to the apex of her thighs. She stilled as he ran his fingers through her dark curls, and looked down at him. Her cheeks were flushed, now with passion rather than shyness, and her breathing was heavy. He kissed the side of her breast and smiled at her, silently waiting for her to be ready.

Swallowing hard, she nodded, and he stroked her again, parting her folds, moving his hand more intimately against her. He was delighted when he felt how wet she was. He had been half-afraid that she wouldn't be—that she didn't really want this and that she wouldn't be ready for him. To feel the evidence of her desire, to know that it was for _him_, only made him want her even more.

He slipped one finger into her, feeling how hot and tight she was, and her hands clutched his shoulders, He held still, letting her adjust. When he felt her relax, he began to move, sliding his finger in and out slowly. She whimpered and he increased the speed of his strokes slightly. He added a second finger and she moaned, her fingernails biting into his skin.

Moving with more surety, his thumb moved up to lightly brush against the nub hidden in the curls at the top of her sex. She cried out when he touched her there, clenching around his fingers and her hips twitching. He did it again, circling that exquisitely sensitive spot with a little more pressure.

He was determined to do everything he could to make this good for her. Setting up a rhythm, he continued to pleasure her. As she finally gave herself over to the sensations, he found himself awed by how willing she was to just give herself over. Her dark hair fanned across the pillow, head thrown back as he wrung needy little sounds from her. There was something humbling about the absolute trust she was placing in him right now.

She was approaching her climax quickly, and with some reluctance, he eased off. Her eyes opened, confused, and he kissed her again as he moved over her.

He parted her thighs with one knee and then settled between them, giving her a chance to become accustomed to him. When long moments passed and he still did nothing, she squirmed against him. "Alistair, please…."

"Ready, Bre?"

"Maker's breath, yes!"

With almost exaggerated carefulness, he entered her, his passage made easier by how ready she was for him. Maker help him, she was so tight and hot and wet, and she felt so _good_ around him. Alistair heard her soft sound of satisfaction as he slid home, and saw her eyes drift shut. Once fully sheathed in her, he had to pause, his body slightly curled as he rested his forehead against her neck.

Running his hand down her thigh, he drew her leg up until she hooked it around his hip. Bracing both of them carefully, he rolled onto his back, holding her on top of him.

With a startled gasp, her eyes flew open and her hands clutched his sides for balance. "What…?"

He settled his hands on her waist. "Trust me," he said, his voice low and rough. He moved his hands up, pushing her more upright. As she moved, she settled on him more fully and he groaned at the combine pressure and angle. An odd expression came over her face.

"Oh. Oh my…."

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth. "I thought you might like that." With the encouraging pressure of his hands, she rolled her hips slightly and he arched his neck back, gasping with pleasure. "Oh, sweet Maker, Bre, do that again."

She did. Breonna seemed a little uncertain of herself at first, working out the best way to brace herself against him. He helped her, offering hands and legs for support, adjusting their positions slightly until she was comfortable. When she did finally found what felt right to her, she began to move with more confidence. Raising herself up and down on him, she found her own rhythm.

Alistair watched her through heavy-lidded eyes, thrusting up to meet her. Her head was thrown back, lips parted as she panted and moaned. Her breasts bounced with each thrust and the sight was too enticing for him to not reach up and fondle her. She moaned, a low and needy sound, and bent forward to return the favor. He hissed in delight as she rolled the tight beads of his nipples between nimble fingers.

She continued to ride him, the sweat-slicked skin of their bodies slipping against each other. He could feel her getting closer, her movements becoming slightly erratic as they both headed for the release they sought. He released lowered one hand to brush over her sex. When he touched her, applied just the right amount of pressure, she came.

"Alistair!" she cried and collapsed against him, shuddering against his chest as her release rocked her. She clenched around him as her pleasure peaked, inner muscles working him, his control fraying at the feel of her on and around him. He thrust once, twice more, hard and deep, driven towards his own release. And then he cried out hoarsely as he finally reached his climax, spilling himself deep inside her.

The sounds of their ragged breathing filled the room as their pulses slowed and returned to normal. He was warm, still damp with sweat that had yet to dry and cool him. On top of him, Breonna felt the same. It was too hot and uncomfortable to lie like this, but Alistair absolutely did not want to either of them to move.

He wrapped his arms around Breonna, keeping her held to his chest, thought not so tightly that she couldn't move if she wanted to. Their position left him inside her, and he was reluctant to break that intimate contact just yet.

Breonna lay quiescent on top of him, her face buried in the crook of his neck. Her form still trembled slightly, and when he felt the tears against his skin, he sighed. Not knowing the exact cause of her grief, he settled for holding her and stroking her hair gently.

"That bad, huh?" he joked, hoping to ease her distress.

Raising herself slightly to look at him, she scrubbed a hand across her eyes and exclaimed, "No! Oh, no, Alistair, that's not it! Not at all!" She cupped his jaw in one hand, running her thumb along his lower lip. "It was wonderful. Better than I'd hoped, actually."

"So I'm exceeding expectations? Good to know."

She giggled. "Very good to know." With a small sound of contentment, she settled back against him, her hands continuing to stroke the side of his face. "It's just that everything's just been so overwhelming, you know? Between the war and the Blight and now all the rebuilding…. It's been a lot to take in. I mean, it was good to get back to work and start putting everything right again, but it's been very stressful.

"And I hate to admit it, but I was more than a little scared of you."

"Scared of me?" Brow furrowed in a frown, he turned to look at her.

"Well, not of _you_, but of this." Her vague gesture encompassed their intertwined bodies. "You didn't have to do this—be sweet with me like you did." She placed a small kiss on the side of his neck. "You could have just tossed me on the bed and had your way with me. But you didn't. You took the time to be gentle, to reassure me so I wouldn't be frightened."

Frowning, he angled his head so he could see her face. "Did you really expect me to do something like that?

"I…." She looked uncomfortable. "No, I guess not," she answered lamely.

A dark suspicion rose in his mind. Andraste's flaming sword, he did not want to ask this question, but it would be more awkward later and he wanted to understand her. "Bre, did Cailan ever…um, _force_ you?"

"_What_?" Shock made her face pale. "Oh, Maker's breath, I'm making a mess of this!" She lowered her head back to his shoulder wearily. "No, that isn't what I meant to say at all. With…with Cailan, sometimes what he wanted came first, but he never forced me and he never hurt me, not like that.

"But you were an unknown. I had no idea what you would be like and it made me apprehensive. I was prepared to think the worst of you, if only to stop myself from getting my hopes up and then having them dashed. I was wrong. You cared enough to make sure I wasn't afraid."

"I'm glad to hear that. It always seemed to me like a marriage wouldn't work very well if your wife is scared of you."

"See? That's what I mean. You want to make this work, make _us_ work. That's far more than I could have hoped for." She paused for a moment, swallowing hard.

"I…I want this to work, Alistair. If you haven't noticed yet, you will. Wearing the crown is lonely. There's no one you can ever truly confide in, and if anyone claims to be a friend, you have to look and see what they really want from you. I've missed being able to be myself. I don't know if it can ever be more, but I want us to be friends, at least. Do you think that's possible?"

Running his hand down her back to give her bottom a squeeze, he said, "I think we're already a little bit beyond that, don't you?"

She laughed and tweaked his ear. "You know what I mean. I mean _friends_—someone to talk to and laugh with and even yell at when we're having a bad day. Can we do that?"

"Yes, I think we can. I'd like that. And while we're on the subject…." He gave her another squeeze and then ran his hand down her thigh. "There are some other things we can do."


End file.
